


loose lips; clenched teeth

by ZephyrEden



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Backstory, Canon Compliant, Gen, Introspection, Loneliness, Minor Use of Alcohol, flashes of gula through the years, implied gula/ava feelings cause i love those kids, implied trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrEden/pseuds/ZephyrEden
Summary: the taste of regret still lingers on your tongue; it's not as bitter as the loneliness caught in your throat.





	loose lips; clenched teeth

“Loose lips sink ships.”

He’s nine when he first hears those words.

They come from the gruff voice of a dock worker, one he sees often when he comes here at sunrise but never asks the name of. It feels safer that way.

“What does that mean?” he asks in a voice that he pushes lower to hide the shakiness of it, a child playing at being a man.

The worker just laughs, scratching the uneven stubble that coats his chin as he grins. “It means the shop owner has been asking around about a book thief,” the boy’s blood runs cold, “but I won’t tell them it was you.”

He clutches the worn-out book to his chest. He only takes the old ones, the ones that have been eroded by love until no one will love them anymore. He can love them.

“As long as you,” the man continues, leaning down to whisper rather loudly so it’s more for show than secrecy, “don’t tell anyone I’ve been skimming fish from the catch for dinner.”

The child’s eyes grow wide, but the man just winks. They go back to the silence they usually pass the days in, just the sound of the sea and a bustling market surrounding them. He thinks it feels different now. He wonders if this is what having a friend is like.

 

 

 

Three weeks later, the man is gone.

He isn’t old enough, wise enough, to know how the darkness works yet. How it takes and takes and takes and never gives anything back.

The boy waits and waits, from before the sun rises to after it sets. He waits by the docks, on the barrels, behind the crates he’s still small enough to use for cover. Days pass and he’s gone through four books, devouring the words at a pace only meant to distract until his focus is broken and he’s reading the same page for an hour. His lip bleeds, but he doesn’t stop chewing it.

“You’re alone.”

They’re the first words that have been spoken to him in a week. He won’t remember that detail later. The words become etched deep inside his heart. The first words spoken to him by the Master.

It occurs to the boy that it might be a question. The inflection is all wrong, but the way the man is looking at him with a curious gaze and tilted head says otherwise. It might be a question, but it isn’t one he knows how to answer.

“I can see it, you know.”

The boy regards him warily. “See what?”

The man grins and there’s something blending in with the glee that the boy will never be wise enough to see.

“Your potential.”

It’s a simple statement. It’s a simple statement, yet with just two words the boy’s entire life is spun around and it makes him dizzy just to keep up with what’s happening. But when the man presents him with an outstretched hand that offers kindness beyond what he’s ever known, he doesn’t hesitate to take it.

He doesn’t return to the docks.

 

 

 

“Gula!”

The boy looks up from his book, the pages white and crisp and spine showing no sign of use, to see a girl bounding up to him. Ava was the first one he met after the Master took him in. She was there when he was given his name. She’s the youngest of them all, just a few months behind him, but she’s the friendliest by far.

He isn’t sure why, but the two of them stick together.

“Yes?” he answers after a moment, realizing Ava is waiting for him to give her a sign to continue.

“Invi got her keyblade!”

Gula’s eyes widen. He carefully closes the book and sets it aside, giving Ava his full attention. “That was fast. Even Ira needed more training before the Master could pull his out.”

Ava smiles and hops up on the table top to sit next to him. “He did it on the first try! Master says that because Invi’s so serious, her heart was able to focus on the goal of mater- materializing it,” she squints, stumbling over the word in her excitement, “and that it came out right when he went to reach for it. Aced is really jealous!” she giggles.

Gula looks away, clears his throat. He can feel a warmth in his cheeks that always comes when she smiles so brightly at him. “I’m sure he is. After all, it took days for Aced’s keyblade to form.”

Ava laughs and nods. “Yeah, I remember. He kept skipping meals because he was sulking, but then we’d find him in the kitchen in the middle of the night because he was hungry. Oh! But that’s why I came to get you! Aced and Ira really want to spar with Invi, so Master said we should watch to study.”

Gula nods. He doesn’t mind studying. In fact, he thinks observing is often more useful than action. Still… He’s growing inpatient for the day he gets to hold a keyblade of his own.

 

 

 

Ava’s keyblade shines brightly in the sunlight as it clashes against Invi’s, the two girls sparring in the courtyard beneath the clocktower Gula is watching from.

He’s not pouting, no matter what Invi says. He’s not pouting, but he’s sick of Aced’s overt and Ira’s (less than) subtle teasing. He’s tired of Ava’s reassurances that hardly mask the guilt she shouldn’t have to feel.

“Feeling lonely, huh?”

Gula jolts when the Master suddenly appears beside him, his crossed arms leaning on the railing as he gazes as the training match below.

Gula’s jaw tightens. “I’m not-“

“Hey, it’s okay, I get it,” the Master waves off. “Even I get lonely sometimes.”

Gula blinks. He wasn’t expecting that. “…You do?”

“Of course I do! You kids are always off playing, studying, training with each other. And where does that leave me? Alone in the study, just writing away,” the Master sighs dramatically enough for it sound like he’s joking but Gula has learned by now that the Master’s eccentricities are anything but. “Though…” he says quietly, and Gula isn’t sure if he’s supposed to hear. “We’ll be adding another soon enough…”

“What?” Gula questions, his brows furrowed.

The Master waves his hands dramatically, almost frantic, shaking his head with a forced smile. “Nothing, nothing! Forget I said anything!” The Master slows his motions as Gula immediately obeys, looking away and back to fight below.

Gula can feel the Master’s eyes on him, watching him with a seriousness that’s uncommon but not unheard of. He holds his breath until the Master lowers himself to his level, sitting beside him.

“You know,” the Master starts and Gula is taken back to another time, back when the sun would blister his dirty skin and the scent of sea salt was heavy in the air. “You work well alone.”

Gula doesn’t say anything. It’s always best to let the Master ramble on before trying to guess at what the point is.

“You and Invi are very similar in that way. You’re both reserved, observant, rational and levelheaded. But there’s a difference between you two and that’s what makes you both very important and very different.”

The Master isn’t one for sugary praises and sweet nothings, but there’s no part of Gula that can comprehend being placed on the same level as Invi. If Ira was a king and Aced a general, then Invi would be their tactician. While Ira and Aced wage wars, Invi wins them. And when all is said and done, Ava makes sure they all make it back in one piece.

Gula doesn’t have a place in that unit.

“Invi needs the others if she’s to be useful. She’s an observer, yeah, but she uses that information to peacekeep. She’s a mediator. You don’t need others. You watch and you wait and you listen. Then, when you have everything you need, you make your move. Invi is like a rope, coiled and tied tight around you guys to make sure you stay together. You, well, you just need to look for the weakest point then strike it to make sure even the sturdiest defenses come crumpling down at your feet.”

Gula isn’t certain that’s a good thing. But if it’s coming from the Master than it must be a skill worth something.

“Anyways,” the Master continues, loud and exaggerated as he stands and stretches. “You’ll get your keyblade soon enough. Just try not to get too lonely in the meantime.”

“Right,” Gula nods. He keeps watching the fight as the Master leaves.

He can’t help the tug of a smile on his lips when Ava wins.

 

 

 

“You’re really okay going up against _him_?”

Gula looks back and forth between Luxu and Aced. “I know he looks like a bear, but Aced won’t actually try to hurt me,” Gula reasons. He can’t say he’s sparred against Aced often, usually Ira and Aced pairing up due to their rivalry while he groups with the two magic users, but with the few times he has he’s figured he’s learned a thing or two.

Luxu doesn’t look convinced. “You say that, but…” His expression becomes more skeptical by the second. “Well, to be honest, this doesn’t look like much of a fair fight.”

“Fairness is hardly a factor in battle,” Gula frowns. He doesn’t think it’s much a factor in life, but he keeps that thought to himself. “Besides, Aced might be strong,” he turns away and summons his keyblade, the weight of it familiar as it grazes the calluses on his fingers and palm. “But I’m fast.”

 

 

 

He hasn’t quite gotten used to the masks that cover their faces now. Nobody questioned it when the animal faces were placed before them, the Master jovial but stern as he explained the concept of foretellers and unions, Luxu hooded and silent as he stood across from the rest of them at the Master’s side. No one asked why one of them was not included. They didn’t argue when they were proclaimed masters in their own right, the Master himself dramatically claiming to now be the Master of Masters.

When they gather around the round table to formally introduce their unions, Gula feels like he’s in the company of strangers. Invi’s face is barely visible. Aced is more intimidating than ever, Ira more foreboding. Ava’s smile isn’t nearly as bright when he can’t see the kindness shining in her eyes.

It’s a good way to hide, though. He doesn’t need to watch his face as much to make sure a quirked brow or twitch of the eye doesn’t give away his true feelings. No one can tell when he’s withdrawing far deeper into himself than usual.

They wouldn’t notice, anyways. All of them, the Foretellers, are too busy finding new wielders and recruiting them into their unions. Heartless appear in town more and more often, but the number of keyblades grows even faster than that. The little Dream Eaters are spotted all over town and trails of Lux follow them.

It doesn’t feel like he’s doing some honorable job for the Master anymore. It doesn’t feel like he’s in the company of his friends anymore. It doesn’t feel like he’s part of the misfit group he’s come to call family anymore.

He tells himself it’s okay to be alone. When he’s alone, he can help Leopardus climb the rankings to the top and when he’s at the top he gets to see glimpses of the people he once knew again. Approval from Invi and a sense of pride from Ira, jealousy and determination from Aced and congratulations from Ava. And just like that his union falls again and he has to struggle and strive to claw his way back up.

It’s worth it, in the beginning. He hates that the masks have taken their identities away from them and if squeezing every drop of Lux from this world is what it takes to see his friends again, then it’s worth it.

He trusts the Master, but he doesn’t think he will ever agree with the choice to lock his apprentices in the shadow of another form.

 

 

 

It takes a substantial amount of self control for him to not crumple the paper in his trembling fingers.

It’s been weeks since the Master left – since he _abandoned_ them, because he’s not coward enough to not call it what it is – and in that time he has come to realize several things.

One – Ira is not the calm and collected leader they had always thought of him as. Or, some of them thought, at least. He bluffs far better than Aced could ever dare to dream, but no matter how pretty the lie, Gula isn’t fooled. Ira is agitated, flighty. He’s angry. He knows just as well as Gula does that they have been left to fend for themselves. That they have been raised to die, like lambs to the slaughter, and that the Master knew they didn’t stand a fighting chance. That the five of them have no chance in preventing what’s to come.

Two – it is not just rivalry that keeps Aced’s eyes on Ira. Gula is starting to wonder if the Master mixed up their names because while Invi is content to sit back and whisper to Ira, Aced is turning shades of green and red that clash violently together. His jealously is palpable every time Ira takes charge and the only one fool enough to mistake seething rage for brutal honesty is Aced himself. It leaves Gula suspicious enough that allying himself with Aced almost seems like a good idea. He tries to ignore the voice in his head, the one that sounds an awful lot like Luxu, that says things don’t always end well when he’s up against the bear.

Three – Aced is not the only one who is jealous. Invi is more outspoken these days, under the guise of keeping the peace, but she is still fairly quiet overall. Maybe that’s why the others don’t notice. But Gula notices, because much like Invi, Gula is an observer. He can see the tiny trembles that shake her shoulders when Ava speaks about the Master. He can smell it rising up in her – a bitter mix of envy and anger directed at both Ava and the Master (and often Aced, as of late), all before being overcome with a crashing wave of guilt for those feelings. It ebbs and flows like the tide, but never completely recedes. He wishes they still talked like they used to. He thinks this is the sort of deep discussion that used to bring them together. He’s smart enough to know that now it would only push them apart.

Four – Ava is the only one that isn’t angry and he thinks she’s the only one that hasn’t changed because of it. But it’s hard for the rest of them to hear her defend the Master unwaveringly when they’re all questioning his intentions, when they all feel betrayed. It isn’t Ava that’s spurned them; they have all spurned her, slowly drifting away and hoping she won’t notice. Ava notices immediately, but says nothing, because Ava hasn’t changed.

Five – there is a small part of Gula, a part he is actively trying to ignore, that hates the Master for the roles he’s given them. Ira and Invi are open about their assignments. Aced doesn’t say directly, but it doesn’t take much to figure it out. Ava is silent about hers and so is he. He doubts Ava has been tasked as well with tearing their family apart. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, not if what the Lost Page says is true. He loves his friends, but there’s more at stake than just them. He can’t sacrifice the world for his friends, despite how much he wishes he was the kind of person that could. He thinks that’s the reason he was given this role and it fills him with hate even more. He pretends it isn’t aimed at himself.

Even while he stares at the page, his eyes rereading words for the hundredth time in the last hour, he can’t comprehend it. He’s starting to wonder if they all could be traitors, betraying themselves before betraying each other. He wonders if the Master would task the traitor with outing themselves.

He tugs on his mask and is glad for the thin shield of anonymity. “I’m ready,” he says aloud to the empty alleyway as witness. It’s the only way he can lie to himself long enough to make the first move.

 

 

 

Aced had been the obvious choice. The easiest target. His hunger for power was undeniable, he was the first to break the union rules, he even attacked Invi head on.

If he was the traitor, then Gula had to confront him. Regardless of his feeling towards the Master or his role, it was the part he was given to play so he’d play it out until the end.

He hadn’t won often against Aced, but he had won before and that’s what mattered. And now, with Aced injured and the chance to put this traitor business behind them once and for all, he needed to act fast. He could win.

He had to.

 

 

 

He finds it unbelievably funny. Hysterical, really, to the point that his lungs ache something fierce with the desire to laugh until he deflates completely.

It was Ava that hid him back here while he was unconscious, in an alley just shy of the docks. He knows why she picked here. It’s because this alley is out of the way enough that people rarely pass by, because it’s a dumping ground for empty cargo and other trash that makes good cover to hide behind. He remembers using this same alley back then too, when he would steal books with rotting covers and yellowed pages and hide in the filth until they gave up looking.

He laughs and it’s agony, a gasping wheeze that grates against his throat until he can’t breathe. He thinks Aced broke a few of his ribs.

Not that he blames him. He’d like to break a few more of them himself.

Ava snaps him out of that line of thought. She always does, because Ava hasn’t changed.

He takes a chance.

He’s desperate, his words pouring past split lips faster than he can process them. He tells her his role, about the page, the things the Master told him. He can’t keep up anymore. For all the anger and hate he holds towards the Master now, it is easily outweighed by his need for guidance, for help.

For an outstretched hand offering kindness when no one else will.

He finds Ava’s hand, placing his own over it.

“I’m a fool for basing my actions on what’s written on that Lost Page.” When did Aced become the wiser one out of the two of them? “Everything in the passage is ambiguous at best. That’s why… I need to find out.”

Ava is confused and he doesn’t blame her. He’s just as lost as she is. “But how?”

He grasps her hand tighter and pulls it towards him, allowing the small comfort that comes with holding the hand that has held his so many times over the years. “By asking the Master.”

He doesn’t need to see her eyes to know the look she’s giving him. “But he’s not here anymore.”

His grip tightens ever so slightly, not to hold her there but to ground himself. “I’m going to summon Kingdom Hearts.” He can scarcely make sense of the words even when they’re coming from his own mouth.

“What?!”

“Then he’ll have no choice but to come back.” He needs her on his side.

Ava is frantic, fearful. “Summoning Kingdom Hearts is forbidden!”

“That’s exactly why!” He gets to his knees and cradles her hand in both of his, his desperation growing. He can’t focus on how scared she looks, how he’s the one making her feel that way. This is his only chance to get her to understand. Even she… Even she should understand this, why they have to do this. “The only way to get him back is to break the rules! If things don’t change, the entire world is doomed!” He squeezes her hand, trying to will his own seriousness (his own fear) into her. “But, in order to go through with it, I’ll need Lux. I don’t have nearly enough! You always do the right thing. Help me with this.”

It feels like a small eternity, the time that passes from when he stops until she speaks. He believes in her, _trusts her_ , more than anyone and Ava wants the Master back more than anyone. Surely-

“I’m sorry.”

Gula has never tasted heartbreak, but he thinks this must be it. Like the pressure of an entire ocean is crushing his chest. It’s a sensation so palpably bitter he knows she must taste it too.

“I know you want the Master to return, but you don’t know how summoning Kingdom Hearts will affect the rest of the world.”

He knows she’s right. He knows it, but it doesn’t make it any less painful when she gently pulls her hand away from his.

“The Master… He forbid it for a reason. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“I see,” he barely manages to force out, his voice struggling to not break on a whisper. He gets to his feet and his body screams at him, every bruise and fracture and scrape crying for him to stop moving. He doesn’t listen. He brushes past her with a limp and tries not to think that this could be their last conversation.

He doesn’t want it to end like this.

His fingers graze the fabric layered over his chest, the place where his aching heart must be. “May your heart be your guiding key.”

 

 

 

While he’s never seen the Master actually drink, Gula knows where he hid a bottle of liquor that he got years ago as a gift from a merchant in the market place. It takes a few minutes to locate in the dark, but when he finds the dusty bottle behind a stack of crates, he’s pleased to see it still unopened.

He’s never tasted alcohol before, but he figures the end of the world is as good a time as any to try it.

He cracks the cap off and is immediately assaulted by a smell so strong it burns his nose. He knows that any other day that would be enough for him to decide against it, but today he’s hoping it burns everything else.

He screws his eyes shut as he knocks the bottle back, clenching his fist and teeth as he forces himself to swallow so he doesn’t immediately start coughing it back up. There’s tears in his eyes and his throat stings like its been scraped raw. The feeling is too close to something from too long ago, something he’s spent too many years trying to forget, so he tips the bottle back again.

He’s smarter this time, taking it down one gulp at a time until his vision is swimming and stomach is churning and his brain is finally hazy enough to just. Stop.

Maybe if he drinks enough he’ll lose consciousness long enough for the end to pass. Maybe he’ll wake up and find he’s fallen asleep in the study again, with unions and prophecies and masks all being a dream. Maybe he’ll open his eyes and find he’s a sun baked child again with salt crusted hair from spending too much time at the docks and dim eyes that don’t hold kindness because he’s never been given any to hold.

“It’s quiet, isn’t it?”

He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

With clumsy hands he sets down the half empty bottle and grabs his mask, hiding his beneath a leopard and a hood before he sees who his visitors are. He isn’t surprised by who he finds.

“Do you need something?” His tongue feels like lead, heavy as it sits in his mouth but he tries his damnedest not to slur. He won’t have some young wielders looking down nor taking pity on him, not today.

The wielders jolt, a Chirithy acknowledging him, but he’s not interested in pleasantries. “Not bothering to collect Lux, coming to this place…” He smiles wryly and can’t help the sting of bitterness that sits lovingly behind his lips. “Are you Ava’s Dandelions?”

“Oh, yes,” one of them replies and he thinks he vaguely recognizes her. He might have even recalled her name if his brain wasn’t swimming right now.

“Are you looking for Ava?” He was too.

“That’s right,” she answers, polite yet determined. He admires that.

But now isn’t the time for admiration. “What will you do if you meet her?” He steps forward on surprisingly steady feet, a wave of cynicism bearing down on him. “Will you ask her to change the situation in regards to the coming battle? Even _Ava_ cannot do that.” He can feel laughter bubbling in his lungs, despairing and desperate and ready to mock these _children_ that think there’s anything to be done.

“Or will you ask about the situation?” he coos condescendingly and he’s not sure if it’s the liquor or his own darkness that makes him do it. “You cannot change anything, even after knowing.”

The dark-haired girl steps forward and his admiration is quickly turning to annoyance, contempt. “But we can’t just do nothing and wait around for the world to end! It’s the duty of a Dandelion,” she takes a deep breath and looks at him resolutely, “to keep as many of our comrades away from the battle as possible.”

He wants to scoff but holds it in. “As expected, there are those who have been gathered together by Ava.” He closes his eyes, sighing as he shakes his head. “You’re just like her… Always walking the straight and narrow.” He isn’t sure if he means as a compliment or not anymore. “But no matter how just you might be, you cannot save the world. If there’s any chance, only the Master can do it.” He’s already lost faith in that ideal conclusion.

He isn’t in the mood for arguing with children. He answers their questions about the Master and Ava like he’s reading a script and for once he feels like he is. Like this is some grand play put on by the Master with Daybreak Town as the stage and the Foretellers as his unknowing actors, given their roles and trying to figure out what lines to read when none of the parts are labeled.

_“The one unable to permit unbalance will be disheartened by the future, failing to see true strength. The one who will misread the truth will step into secrecy.”_

The wielders look alarmed. “What’s that…?”

He’s tired. “A part of the Lost Page. As to who this is speaking of…” he shrugs and shakes his head. “A traitor among us.” Not for the first time, he wonders if it could be himself or Ava that the page is detailing. He doesn’t know what he would do even if he knew.

“So,” the girl speaks up, “what does that mean?”

He sighs. “It means that the traitor will be the one to end this world.” The wielders are shocked. He wishes he still could be. “I was suspecting someone but, in the end, I couldn’t find out.” He looks down and is glad for the mask that shields them from seeing his shame. “I have probably missed the mark,” he admits.

The wielders talk amongst themselves and he feels sorry for them; sorry that they’re too late, sorry that the Foretellers – that _he_ – wasn’t enough to stop this. “There’s more.”

He shakes his head as he stumbles back, grabbing hold of a table for balance and falling ungracefully onto a chair. He looks at them and smiles, reciting his lines from heart.

_“And, with that one swing, a bell will toll for the final clash, marking the beginning of the battle at the destined time.”_

“Is it alright for you to tell us something that you, the Foretellers, regard with such importance?” the Chirithy speaks up, ever loyal to the Master and his cause.

“It’s not,” he answers bluntly. “But we can no longer avoid the battle, so even if you know, it doesn’t really matter.” He figures that’s nicer than saying “it’s the end of world and nothing really matters, so I honestly don’t care.” He’s had enough of caring about his job as a Foreteller.

The bells from the clock tower ring and time seems to stop all at once. Gula is ready to feel his heart beat out of his chest, but instead it slows, falling into a steady lulling rhythm. He’s calm, truly, for the first time in a long time.

He doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want this world to end, but he’s ready for all of this to be over.

“There, it’s begun.”

 

 

 

As Gula looks around the battlefield, at the countless wielders led by the people he would have once laid down his life for, it’s with surreal clarity that several things dawn on him.

One – the Master was right. As long as the five of them were here, there was no avoiding this battle.

Two – that they might all be the traitor or, perhaps, there was never any traitor at all. It’s the result of all their actions that led them here. None of them are without guilt. He feels the guiltiest of all. He tries not to wonder where they would be if he had not started collecting such excessive amounts of Lux.

Three – if by some miracle, likely only possible by the divine intervention of Kingdom Hearts itself, any of them survive, they will have to live with the burden of the thousands of hearts they are to lose today.

Four – not even Ava could remain unchanged. He’s certain of that the moment he sees her lead the remains of her union onto the field, a fox leading the lambs to slaughter while her precious Dandelions are safe. They have always been predators. The Master made sure of it.

Five – the Master was right. He is alone.

_“You’re alone.”_

He can feel the words carve deeper and deeper into his heart, reverberating in his chest and rib cage until it’s the only thing filling him up.

The war begins and wielders rush into battle and he watches them fall just as quickly. It’s horrific. Keyblades clash and magic flies and bodies fall limp in the dirt as they join the hearts scattering across the sky.

He isn’t old enough, wise enough, to know how the world works yet. How the darkness takes and takes and takes and never gives anything back. How the light is much the same. He hasn’t suffered enough on his own to crave the space that lies between.

He’s getting there, though.

He summons his keyblade and grips it like a vice, striking down the wielders of opposing unions that dare approach him. He can see where the other Foretellers are converging, moving towards a familiar face in the center of the battlefield.

He knows what he must do.

“May my heart be my guiding key.”

He hopes that when his heart is free, Kingdom Hearts will lie in the in between.

**Author's Note:**

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